


Wonderful, Wonderful!

by dreaminginsepia



Category: Call the Midwife
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, Marriage, Romance, Shulienne - Freeform, Turnadette - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-12
Updated: 2013-06-12
Packaged: 2017-12-14 19:03:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/840305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreaminginsepia/pseuds/dreaminginsepia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Patrick and Shelagh's future life together, starting with their wedding and moving on through all the trials that follow. Slightly AU in that Nonnatus still exists (I'm in denial), and mostly Turnadette with some Shulienne. Also published on fanfiction.com. I hope you enjoy!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It seemed that half of Poplar wanted to come to the wedding. The chapel could only hold so many though, so pride of place was given to the Sisters and Nurses, as well as the few family members that remained on either side. Outside was a different matter. The corner outside Nonnatus House was packed with well wishers, and the streets were lined with hordes of people: families carrying confetti, young mothers and old standing together with children running between their legs, and, right by the front door, the Cub Scouts. They were getting ready for another performance and trying not to look too bored while they waited for the happy couple to emerge. This time the song had been chosen by one of their own and, unfortunately, there would be no costumes or playfighting (although Fred had liberally – and unwisely - given out confetti for them to throw). Jenny Lee looked out from one of the windows at the crowds and couldn't help beaming. The happy couple would be amazed when they saw how much they were loved, she was sure, and no one deserved such happiness more. There was a quiet cough behind her, and she turned to see Shelagh standing in front of her, holding her arms out.

"Do you think I'll look acceptable?" she asked shyly.

Neither Jenny, Cynthia nor Trixie could get any words out. All three stood there, jaws slack, trying to understand the transformation. It was a simple and understated dress, but all the more beautiful for it. Plain white satin, with a high neck and long sleeves. The skirt had no long train, and didn't flare out significantly at the waist. But the embroidery worked over the bodice and the lace cuffs gave it another layer of beauty entirely. There were intricate patterns in the shapes of hearts and vines, as well as sweetheart roses hidden within, hinting at something deep and hidden for those who cared to look. The lace on the sleeves had been made generations ago by hardy Scottish women, always intended for a dress and woman as beautiful as this. Whether they would have anticipated that she was a former Nun in East End London was more doubtful.

After what seemed an eternity, it was Trixie who finally broke the almost holy silence, with more than a hit of tears in her voice.

"Oh Shelagh, you look – beautiful!" she sighed.

Shelagh blushed. "Thank you, it was my mother's dress. I never thought I would wear it myself."

"How could you have worn that habit for so long? You have such a wonderful figure you know."

Raising her eyebrow, Shelagh replied "I don't think the intention of habits is to show off someone's "figure", Trixie."

It was Trixie's turn to blush. "I know, but...well."

Cynthia, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye, smiled at Trixie's rare abashment. "You look just like Grace Kelly when she married her Prince."

"In a way, I...feel I am" said Shelagh, quietly.

Before the three nurses could pester her more, there was a knock on the door.

"If you three don't go and get ready now, you won't get out until the reception, and I can't promise to save you any cake!"

"Coming Sister Evangelina!" they chorused, and slipped out of the room leaving Shelagh alone with her mirror and only their whispers of good luck and a hug from Cynthia.

She stared at the mirror in front of her and adjusted her glasses, thinking hard. It had not been so long ago since she gazed at it with a very different expression. She well remembered those days of fear and loss –like a gaping hole with one safety net, which didn't seem strong enough to support her. The Nurses always seemed to be enjoying themselves and living freely, and she had become so trapped in the convent; the rituals began to lose the comfort they had always held for her, and finally she lost sight of the path she had tried so hard to stick to. Her habit felt constrictive, her faith was shaking – yet still she held on. Even when she fell in love with Dr Turner, for a long time she forced herself to deny it. Nuns don't fall in love with Doctors, and she had so wanted to be a true Nun. But then had come that one day when he had taken her hand, and since then she'd known deep down what she needed to do. It scared her, certainly, and the looks of shock when she told the Nurses her plans were almost enough to make her falter, but this was her path. Ordained by God to be followed by her. It was a way of love, and in that she would find strength. Her eyes blazed with it today: with love, and hope, and - something missing for so long – happiness.

There was another knock at the door.

"Shelagh, my dear, may I come in?"

"Of course!" she smiled, and turned round, adjusting her glasses shyly.

Sister Julienne came in slowly, dressed in her traditional habit (specially washed and pressed for the occasion). She carried a bouquet, which she had been given the honour of preparing. Shelagh and Patrick wanted to keep everything simple, and so she willingly obliged them - but remembering her mother's advice to her in her youth before her own path was clear, had carefully selected the flowers to symbolise the true love between them. When she'd thought of her own wedding in those days, this was the bouquet she had dreamed of, and it seemed perfect for the happy couple today. There was Lily of the Valley, for sweetness and humility, Orange Blossom for tradition, White Phlox for united souls and Honeysuckle for devoted affection. She hoped sincerely that the prophesies made by the flowers would come true - but having seen the couple together she could have no real doubt of it. Julienne passed the bouquet over to the bride, who sniffed and wiped away a tear.

"Oh Sister, it's perfect" she whispered.

"As are you today, my dear."

Shelagh reverentially placed her bouquet on the table under her mirror and turned back to face her again. Before Julienne could question it, she carefully knelt, lifting the dress off the floor as she did so.

"Would you give me your blessing Sister? I know you'll give it again later, but I would greatly appreciate it."

Sister Julienne, overwhelmed with emotion, gave the blessing as well as she could. Then, before she knew it, Shelagh was hugging her tightly.

"Thank you so much for everything you've done for me."

"You are like a daughter to me my dear. I will always help you with whatever path you need to take. I am honestly glad that God spoke to you truly and you didn't go to Chichester. It would have been a great loss to Poplar – and an even greater one to your Doctor. You three will be very happy together." Sister Julienne could go no further. The tears were coming thick and fast, and she could only hold Shelagh tight and pray for her. Finally, they heard another knock at the door, and Sister Evangelina poked her head around again, smiling at what she saw.

"Everyone is ready."

"Then we must go." Julienne smiled, wiping her tears and straightening her cross. Shelagh pulled her veil into place again and carefully straightened it in the mirror, making sure the antique lace wasn't twisted or fraying. Having done so, she picked up the bouquet, closed her eyes briefly for a second to pray silently, and turned to the door.

"I'm ready."


	2. Chapter 2

This was not the first time that Dr Turner had stood at an altar. It seemed a lifetime ago today, the last time he had done so, waiting for his first wife – his Moira – to join him there. He remembered it well: family gathered around the two of them afterwards to congratulate the happy couple, her dark hair contrasting with the pure white of her dress, and the sheer nerves that he felt until the ring slipped itself onto her finger (he'd nearly dropped it). For years he missed her – the comforting presence, the smiles, the understanding. He had thought at her death that she could never be replaced, that he would never find another Moira. And, he reflected to himself, he hadn't. He didn't need to anymore. Moira belonged to another part of his life, a time long gone. It was a time he would always remember and treasure – but it was a time he had left behind. He no longer needed to search for Moira in the world when he had something equally if not more precious – Shelagh. And today, he felt no nerves.

Mendelssohn began playing suddenly, the notes ringing through the chapel. The doors opened slowly and three bridesmaids in blue entered. It had, in the end, been the easiest decision to make. Being a Nun for ten years meant that Shelagh's social circle was somewhat limited – and anyway, she couldn't have denied them this pleasure. Wearing short sleeved baby blue dresses, their skirts flaring out as they sprinkled flowers on the cold stone floor, Trixie, Jenny and Cynthia walked down the aisle. All three of them were beaming from ear to ear, as were most of the congregation. Chummy, Peter and Freddie sat on the front row, wearing their assorted Sunday best. Chummy had agonised over whether to being Freddie or not, but in the end it was Patrick who had persuaded her.

"It was through children that we met, and I would be honoured if you would bring your son to our wedding. If he cries, he cries. But I know it would mean a lot to Shelagh to have all her friends there – and she's always loved looking after him."

Chummy had been moved to tears, and promised him that Freddie would be just spiffing (and in case he wasn't, she'd brought his favourite comforter and a new hand knitted elephant toy). Jane and her Reverend sat next to the happy family, unconsciously holding hands as they watched contented. Behind them were Sisters Evangelina and Monica Joan. If anyone had asked, Sister Evangelina would have blamed her allergies for the tears that leaked from the corners of her eyes – but no one was brave enough to ask, and everyone knew the truth. On the other side of the Chapel sat their assorted family. This had been a more difficult matter – Shelagh's mother had died when she was very young, and her father when she was 18. No other close relatives remained. For Patrick, there was an elderly maiden aunt on his mother's side, and an aunt and uncle on his father's. His first wife's family still lived of course, but he had felt uncertain at inviting them. Eventually he asked Moira's sister, always his favourite relative of hers, hoping that she would see the gesture as one of goodwill. She seemed to have understood, and brought her husband and young daughter. The three bridesmaids sat in front of them as they reached the top of the aisle. And then, for the first time, he saw the vision of his bride walking towards him.

Shelagh had agonised over her "something old, something new, something borrowed, and something blue". The something old was her dress, of course, and the something new was the veil she bought to go with it. But for blue and borrowed, she had had more difficulty. One evening over tea she had confessed this to the other Nurses - it seemed such a trivial thing to worry about, and she didn't truly believe it would bring her luck. Still, tradition could be a powerful force. The something blue, in the end, came from Chummy.

"It was my mother's, and her mother's before that" She explained, handing over the enamel hairpin. "I wore it to my own wedding as well. I know it all seems superstition, but it did make me feel jolly lucky!"

Shelagh thanked her profusely, but there was still the question of something borrowed. Until, just a week before the wedding, Sister Julienne had asked her into her office for a "quick talk". Once she entered, the Sister quickly and quietly shut the door and pulled out a suitcase from under her desk. Before Shelagh could question further, she opened it and carefully removed a jewellery box, handing it over to the awestruck nurse.

"I couldn't help overhearing the other say that you were having difficulty finding your something borrowed. This necklace was give to me on my 18th birthday, and I have not had occasion to wear it for a very long time. If you would do me the honour of borrowing it for your wedding, I would be very happy indeed."

Shelagh found it difficult to see through the tears, but promised to wear it on her wedding day with pride. And so, now, as she walked down the aisle towards him, the necklace glimmered modestly, the diamonds catching the light as she moved. It was a simple silver chain, with a small cluster of gems as a circular pendant, but somehow it perfectly accentuated her small neck. Patrick found himself unable to breath as she came closer, lit up from the inside with love. She seemed to glow, despite the poor light from the windows, and it was as though an angel was coming towards him. He would have knelt then and there in awe, but some stronger force stopped him and he couldn't move a muscle. Then suddenly she was next to him, and he could only stare at her – and she at him. They were lost in their own world, and everyone around them was caught up in the magic too. It took a loud sniff from Sister Evangelina (trying and failing to stem the flow of tears) to jolt the Vicar into beginning the service.

"In the presence of God, Father, Son and Holy Spirit, we have come together to witness the marriage of Patrick Turner and Shelagh McDonald," he began, earning another sniff from Sister Evangelina.

"Who gives this woman to be married to this man?" came next. Having no male relatives, this had originally posed a difficult question for Shelagh. Eventually though, only one name had seemed right – and thankfully, she'd agreed.

"I do" said Sister Julienne, clasping Shelagh's hand tightly as she watched her young charge's face glow with joy.

"Patrick Turner, will you take Shelagh McDonald to be your wife? Will you love her, comfort her, honour and protect her, and, forsaking all others, be faithful to her as long as you both shall live?"

"I will" he replied.

"Shelagh McDonald, will you take Patrick Turner to be your husband? Will you love him, comfort him, honour and protect him, and, forsaking all others, be faithful to him as long as you both shall live?"

"I will" she said softly.

They made it through the vows with no mistakes, and after a hymn ("Before the Ending of the Day"), the Vicar turned to them again.

"Heavenly Father, by your blessing, let these rings be to Patrick and Shelagh a symbol of unending love and faithfulness, to remind them of the vow and covenant which they have made this day through Jesus Christ our Lord. May I have the rings?"

Timothy stepped forwards, proudly carrying the cushion on which rested two silver wedding bands. His hair was smart and combed, his suit was starched, and there was not a button out of place. Beaming, he held them out to the Vicar, who picked the smaller of the two and handed it to Patrick.

It was simple – a thin silver band with a slight ridge around the outside – but it suited her style. He slid it onto her finger, up next to the diamond engagement ring, and held her hand. He repeated the vows, but before the Vicar could move onto his own ring, he held Shelagh's hand up to his lips and kissed it again. His own ring was placed, with Shelagh holding his hand just as softly as he had held hers. And then, after so long waiting, came the words he had dreamed of.

"I therefore proclaim you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride."

As blasphemous as it seemed to be kissing a former nun in the chapel of her former convent, he did it anyway, and she kissed him back with all of her love. And for that moment, he felt truly heaven blessed.

The cries on the street as the happy couple emerged were almost deafening. Together they had saved so many lives in this small corner of the East End, and people wanted to show their love any way that they could. And so it was that, as the double doors opened and they stepped out, the crowd of Scouts stood at attention and began to sing at Fred's signal.

"I feel the glow of your unspoken love, I'm aware of the treasures that I own. And I say to myself, it's wonderful, wonderful. Oh, so wonderful my love!"

Shelagh turned to Patrick.

"How do they know our song?" she whispered. And then, simultaneously, they looked around to see a very happy Timothy standing behind them.

"Was I right?" he chirped up.

"Always" said his father, patting him on the head.


End file.
